Under Your Scars
by NihilistAce
Summary: gothStan/jerseyKyle. Warnings: swearing, adult themes, suicide, self-harm, mental illness, etc. Raven doesn't see a point, disconnected and depressed. Kyley-b is angry too much, he feels everything sharply and deeply. Always angry, unless the anger leaves him... Many years have passed, is there anything left of the former super best friends? Or has the world taken that too?
1. The New Stan

Raven sat alone in his small apartment. It was a two bedroom, he roomed with Pete, but he was at the store. He sat in his bedroom, where he spent the majority of his time. His back was against the wall, his ass ached uncomfortably on the hard floor, but he didn't have the energy to get up. He loosely clutched a glass bottle of alcohol. It wasn't strong, just something fruity that tasted nice.

It was early evening, but his blackout curtain blocked out the remainder of the days light nicely, just as he preferred. This always happened, when he started reflecting on his life. His thoughts would spiral and then he'd get himself stuck in his infinite loop of inescapable logic. He couldn't pull himself out of it because no matter how he tried to look at it, he couldn't see that he was wrong. No matter how he tilted what he thought, nor how he tried to weasel additional truth to spring, it came back to him the same.

His thoughts swam back to a few years ago, when he was still in high school. He was pulling a C average and when he asked to take the test to take some college courses he was laughed at; but they did let him because the had the money for the fee. His mom had even been surprised at his interest, which led to the shock of his outstanding scores that allowed him to take a couple of courses as long as he kept all his grades above a C. His high school grades remained, but his college course grades he netted A's and B's. He took philosophy courses, logic, ethics, and he aced them. He understood them, it was real world knowledge and he enjoyed it. His mother was super proud of him when he got his grades, she wanted to let him have a party but he said just his favorite dinner would suffice.  
Yeah..., he understood a lot about the world thanks to those classes. But the classes weren't all, he also took to reading considerably more, but not literature-type, actual scientific articles and things like that. Some of it was challenging, but he enjoyed the learning, it was actually interesting, relevant.

Those were the days where he started to truly understand. By then, of course, he was already friends with the goths, Michael, Pete, Henrietta, and Firckle. They were his best friends. He showed them the more relevant things he studied, and they, to varying degrees, enjoyed what he shared. He and Pete were the best of friends of all of them. He didn't understand all of Raven, not like..., Raven heaved himself up to his feet. He chugged the rest of his drink and swung his door open. He trotted down the narrow staircase and finished the small remainder in the bottle. He tossed it in the trash can once he reached the kitchen in the back of the apartment. He understood drinking as he was starting to again, would be dangerous, if he continued. He couldn't really bring himself to care though. His thoughts returned to before he took a trip of memories, nothing mattered anyway. Being an alcoholic would be a better time than not.  
Logically, he knew that wasn't true. True alcoholism, was a nightmare. He didn't want that, not really. Death, maybe, but not that way.

He had been diagnosed with depression as a child, self-medicating at the time with alcohol. Finally, he is seeing a therapist for his depression, not that he's largely sure of any progress. He works nights, so once a week, he goes at 8am, shortly after work and talks to Mackey. He's not a bad therapist, Raven just has trouble applying the skills he's given.

He snorted in disgust before opening a new bottle of fruity alcohol and taking a drink. As he stood in the kitchen, he mused about how his life had changed over the years. Kyle moved when they were 10 years old, out to Jersey. His best friend had been ripped from his life, he was depressed before that, but Kyle's absence and Wendy's constant break-ups drove him to be friends with the goths. They understood. They understood and were there for him. While they believed in and to some extent worshipped Cthulu, he was an atheist. They understood that the world was shit. It was nice to be understood like that. They didn't look at him with pity, like Kenny. They didn't rip on him for "being an emo pussy" like Cartman.  
He had opted not to go into college, despite having credits waiting for him should he choose to go. Instead, he works night security at the South Park mall.

He returned to his room with his drink, occasionally taking a sip. He opted to sit on the bed this time, his back against the head board, one leg fold and the other outstretched. He loosely held the bottle in one hand, the cold of it against his thigh.  
He wanted answers, but he knew answers wouldn't be forthcoming, they never were. There weren't even really answers to his questions, no one had found any because everything was meaningless. That was the all-in-all answer. As much as he knew and accepted that though, he still wanted something different. But he couldn't figure out why. Because meaningless was truth, but for whatever reason, at the same time, he was unable to accept that as an answer.

Still though, he felt desolate. Nothing mattered. Life wasn't going to magically "get better". Life was shit, and it always would be. The whole goddamn world, was shit.

He took a sip before sighing and setting his drink on the post of his headboard before sliding off of his bed and finding his notebook. They still got together to share recent writings. He had a decent idea of what to write about.  
He sat on his bed again once he had his pen and notebook, opening it and flipping to a clean page. He stared down at the page for a while before figuring out how to word everything.

'Desolate  
Desolation abounds,  
What is there but shit in this world?  
Most are too blinded to see it clearly,  
Trying to explain it  
Is nigh impossible.  
Let the world rot then,  
Nothing would come of change.'

He sighed after finishing his writing that he would share with the others. Wondering if Pete had gotten back yet, not that he really wanted to socialize but maybe they could play something on Xbox. He closed the notebook and returned it to it's spot atop his dresser before digging his phone out of his pocket to check the Xbox app and see who was online. No one was, so he settled for turning on Hulu and put something mindless on. He wasn't tired in the sleep way, but he felt weariness dragging at him. He nursed his drink as he sat on his bed, staring at the tv, but not really absorbing whatever was happening. Listless again, it was almost becoming routine.


	2. The New Kyle

Kyley-B sat in the waiting room of his therapist's office. He had been coming here off and on, for a while, since he was eighteen and his mother chose to have them move back to South Park. He tapped his foot impatiently as he sat there, thoughts fluttering back to that first time he had met his therapist, none of than Mr. Mackey, his elementary school counselor.

"Uhm..., Kyle? mmkay," came the irritating voice that he knew too well.

Kyley-B stood and walked over to where the still taller man stood, "It's Kyley-B, fuckface."

"O-oh Kyley-B, sorry, mmkay," Mr. Mackey moved to allow the red head entrance to the back hall where they would travel to his office.

Kyley-B pushed passed him and walked partway down the hall, scanning the names on the doors, looking for Mackey's.

Mr. Mackey caught up to him and led the rest of the way.  
Once in his office, Mackey sat in a desk chair, where Kyley-B could see his name and photo from his ID displayed. He saw other notes on him as well, he scoffed and took a seat across the small room, slouching down in it, his fingers finding their way to his mouth as he absently bit at his nails while glowering at Mackey.

"Why were you brought here Kyley-B?" Mackey asked, glancing from his screen to look at the young adult, vastly different from the child that had departed roughly 8 years prior.

His sneer was back as he glared at Mackey, he sat up, leaning forward, hands on the arm rests of the chair, "Why the fuck do you think? Mom thinks I'm a fucking danger to myself and others. She's of the opinion that my anger is going to ruin my life."

"Do you think what she says has any merit mmkay?"

Kyley-B laughed, a harsh, cold sound. "Fuck no. My anger gets shit done. I can finally see the world for the shithole that it is, I can see clearly thanks to my anger."

"Kyley-B, I would like to start out with some CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy, have you heard of that mmkay?"

He stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"It's a type of therapy, where if you change the way you think, then your behaviors can also change, mmkay."

His thoughts snapped back to the present as his name was called. He strode ahead of Mackey, he knew the way by now. He took his usual seat, absently chewing on his finger nails as he watched as Mackey strode to his desk chair.

"How are you feeling today Kyley-B?"

He didn't immediately answer, thinking, dropping his hand. Eventually, he spoke, "I'm okay, I guess. Still angry, still think being angry is a good thing."

"Sheila tells me you've found a job and you've had it for over six months now. How does that make you feel? Holding down a steady job mmkay."

Kyley-B made a face at him but answered his question after a pause, "I enjoy having my own money. To spend how I like, where and when I like."

"That's understandable. Do you have concerns about where your money goes?"

Kyley-B sat back in the chair, slouching down. "No. Bet my mother does. Bet that's why you're asking."

"Does it bother you that she knows so much about your life mmkay?"

Kyley-B is silent, gaze fixed on the carpeted floor, eyes tracing the vague pattern.

"Have you thought of moving out? You do live in the basement, don't you?"

Kyley-B stiffened but didn't offer an answer.

"You know she wouldn't pry as hard if you didn't live under the same roof. If you would like, I can see about connecting you with someone who could help you acquire a place of your own, mmkay."

The red head looked up, biting his nails again.

"It will probably take a few weeks to a month, but it's certainly something that can be explored, mmkay."

Kyley-B nodded.

"But first, I would like to discuss your work."

He stiffened again, this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

"Kyley-B, your mother has concerns, mmkay," Mackey began.

His anger erupted then, "SHE ALWAYS HAS FUCKING CONCERNS. SHE WON'T LET ME BE MY OWN DAMN PERSON!" He had shot up and paced the width of the room before plopping back into the chair.

He took a deep breath and then sighed, "I'm sorry. But..., damn it, much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Mackey, you're probably right, having my own place would be beneficial."

Mr. Mackey leaned back in his own chair, it seemed, his mother was still a touchy subject. Due to spotty attendance, he hadn't made the progress he had hoped in the years they had been seeing each other. He understood the boy's frustrations, Sheila was a lot to deal with.

He took a moment to carefully word his next statement, "I'm going to tell her to stop asking and, if you're okay with it, I'm going to have them remove her from your list of people that can know and call about you. I feel like it would help you if she had less access, mmkay."

Kyley-B looked on the verge of tears or another outburst, perhaps both.  
"That... that sounds great. Please."

_Please, _in all the years they had been working together, Kyley-B had never once said please. It seemed he found what he had been suspecting.

Mr. Mackey turned to his computer and typed emails to the staff and sent them before turning back to his patient.

"Mmkay, do you have anything you would like to share?"

He was silent for a few long minutes as Mackey patiently waited.

"I've started meditating. Like I did before we moved. Except not in the seeking enlightenment way, just meditating. Shutting off the world."

"Has this been helpful?"

"I... I think so. To an extent. I try to remember the breathing exercises. I try to apply the CBT stuff you told me. Can I have another sheet with the types of thinking and how to counter them?"

Mackey rummaged in the drawer of his desk, eventually finding the paper Kyley-B had requested.  
He handed it to him and said, "I'm glad you seem to be taking the advice to heart mmkay."

"Being angry all the time is exhausting," Kyley-B said softly, not taking his eyes from the paper.

Mackey didn't reply, waiting for perhaps more. It was rare that Kyley-B would actually speak in honest terms like this.

"Most things in life, piss me off. Unproportionately usually. Doesn't matter if I know, logically, it still does. When I'm done being angry though, I just feel empty. Like there's nothing left of me. The anger just fills a void and when it's gone, that's all there ever was."

"Why do you think that is Kyley-B?"

"I spent so much of my childhood being angry..., whether it was at my mom, fatass, or just the shitty world we live in. I guess maybe..., being angry was easier than dealing with anything, so that's what I did. To protect myself, in a fucked up way."

Mackey continued to ask questions and Kyley-B answered, almost in a zombie like fugue. Soon though, the session was over, and they scheduled another appointment.

Kyley-B walked out of the building, gazing around for his mom's van. Of course, there she was. Spray tan, large gold hoop earrings, and wavy, highlighted red hair similar to his own.

"How was therapy Bubbela?"

"Fine," he muttered, strapping in and turning to gaze out the window.

She began chattering mindlessly at him on the drive home and he made only grunts in response, desperately wishing to be back in his room.


	3. Raven - A Glimpse

Though he hadn't had another drink since finishing his last, Pete opted to drive for their meeting with the others. It wasn't a terribly long drive, just to Benny's. They were the third and fourth to arrive, Henrietta and Firckle already sitting in their typical booth. A waitress appeared shortly after the two newcomers sat down, bringing the other two already there two coffees. The other two ordered coffees of their own and talked generally about their day, while they awaited Michael.

In Raven's opinion, he couldn't have arrived any sooner, small talk was the most boring damn thing. He liked hearing about his friend's day, but fuck. He thought they were over the boring bullshit by now.

Finally though, everyone started getting their notebooks out, Raven dug in his drawstring bag for his black notebook and flipped to the latest entry. Henrietta started, then Firckle, then Pete, then Raven, and lastly Michael. Once everyone was finished they talked about the poems, about the world. It was kind of nice, but Raven still felt restless. He wasn't sure why, he enjoyed his time with them, but at the same time, wanted nothing to do with them or anyone. It was unlikely Pete would want him to be alone though, he cared about him or some shit. Which any other time, Raven wouldn't mind.

He flipped to a blank page and borrowed a pen from Firckle as the conversations around him continued.

Listening, Raven tried to form words to explain the turmoil inside him. It took what felt like an eternity, but finally, he was able to put his pen to the paper.

'Surrounded  
Surrounded yet alone,  
Irritated by everything  
Without cause pr logic.  
Small or not,  
Irritated.  
Desire to be alone,  
But still surrounded because being alone wouldn't help.  
The desire persists,  
Giving in solves nothing.  
Surrounded, cared about, and yet...'

He slid the pen back to Firckle and closed his notebook, wishing he had another drink instead of coffee.  
It was almost a week before his next appointment.  
He sighed and stared down into his coffee, the others' conversations washing over him as he paid little attention to them.

Depression comes in waves, or cycles. He knows and understands that. It doesn't make it any less annoying though, or any less irritating. He has coping skills but he doesn't know how to apply them. He can't think his way out of not being interested in anything. He also knows drinking won't solve anything, but it would make it easier for him to fall asleep, if nothing else.  
The conversation has lulled and so Raven takes the opportunity to ask Pete a question.

"Did you happen to get any con queso at the store?"

Pete looks puzzled but replies, "Nah dude, didn't know that was something you'd want."

"No problem, think we could get some?"

"Yeah, like tonight? Or can you go after you sleep?"

"I can tomorrow, what kind of chips do you like? Generic okay?"

"Yeah. Get like two bags? Maybe some plain salsa too," Pete smiles.

Raven makes a note in his phone and returns the smile to Pete.  
"Up for some co-op on that weird indie game?"

"For the king?"

"Yeah," Raven grins, he's trying, honestly.

"Hell yeah man. You wanna control the third or want me to?"

"Whichever, I mean, it's honestly the same, like if one of us has to afk, the other person can use 'em."

"True enough."

And so, Raven made more of an effort to be present with his friends, enjoying another cup of coffee as they talked and discussed when they would meet again.

The sun was beginning to peak when they called it a night and paid for their coffees.  
Pete drove himself and Raven back to their place and they went their separate ways for sleep.  
When Raven woke the following evening, he stared at the ceiling for a little while before rolling over and checking his phone. Nothing new, just a message from Pete to remind him about his desire for con queso. Raven sent a response and then gathered some clothes and went to the bathroom. He showered quickly enough and dressed in black boxer briefs, a pair of baggy black jeans, a dark gray Hollywood Undead shirt, and his black socks. He half-assedly dried his hair with his towel before gathering his dirty clothes in his arms and taking them to the hamper in his room. Once there, he sat on his bed as he pulled his boots on and tied them. He tugged his black hoodie on and checked the pockets for his keys, finding them and then gazing around for his black and gray hat. He slipped it over his head before leaving his room and going out to his car.

The drive to the store was uneventful and he found what he was after easily.

As he neared checkout though, he heard a familiar loud voice, one he hadn't heard in over eight years.

He glanced around for the source, cautiously, it had been quite a while. He saw her though, bright red hair, suspiciously tan, and making a big deal of something.  
Some things never change, he mused before he saw the lanky red head beside her, looking uncomfortable and exacerbated. His eyes widened and he ducked back into an aisle.  
Since when were they back? His heart thudded in his chest

Sure it had been years, but they were super best friends, or … they had been. Raven took a few deep breaths, and walked out the far side of the aisle and continued his way to check out. No point in bothering Kyle if he was back and didn't want to talk to him. He paid for his stuff and went to his car. He sat there, behind the wheel for a few minutes before pulling out his phone and sending a text to Kenny.

"Did you know Kyle's back in South Park?"

He waited anxiously for a few minutes for a reply, but when none was forthcoming, he replaced his phone in his pocket and drove home. He put the salsa and second bag of chips away before opening the cheese and bag of chips and sitting at the kitchen table to enjoy them. He sat his phone on the table and watched it periodically, alert for notifications as he enjoyed the chips and cheese. By the time he had eaten his fill, no notifications were present and so he put the food away and stuffed his phone into his pocket, going upstairs to his room in a slightly grumpy fashion. Kenny must be asleep or fucking someone or maybe at work. Raven rolled his eyes and tried to focus on a game.


	4. Kyley-B - A Glimpse

Leave it to his mother to make a scene at the grocery store. It had been J-mart, but it had vastly grown and was akin to a superstore now. She was yelling at a poor employee and so he eventually wandered away, someone in all black catching his eye. They looked vaguely familiar, but then it had been quite a while since he saw anyone from his elementary school days.

He went in the same direction he had seen them but couldn't find them. He shrugged and looked for food in the aisle he was standing in, that way, his mother couldn't bitch him out if he came back with something "he wanted". It was the soup aisle, not much appealing, but he was determined to find something.

Eventually he walked back to his mother, with two cans of soup in his grasp.

"Bubbleah, where did you go?" Sheila rounded on him immediately, the poor employee no where in sight.

He wordlessly held up the soup for a second before tossing them into the cart.

"Oh that's nice dear. Are those for your lunch at work?"

He grunted, walking slowly beside the cart as they made their way through the store.

"Does your work have a microwave you can use?"

"Mmm," he replied, absently gazing at the candy and snack sticks in the checkout lane.

It didn't last long because soon she yelled at him to unload the groceries to the belt while she made small talk with the cashier. He sighed inwardly, his face a blank mask, as he moved to unload the cart.  
Once they finally finished at the store, she climbed into the van as he loaded the groceries into the back. After pushing the cart back to the corral, he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in, gazing out the window as she began endlessly prattling at him. Once they arrived back at their house, Kyley-B carried everything in and he and his mother worked to put everything away. He found his lunch box and grabbed a clear container from the cabinet and stuffed it, a spoon, and one can of the soup into it before setting it far back on the counter.

He went up to his room and laid on his bed, digging his phone from his pocket.  
Suddenly, he missed Ike, it wasn't like they were close. For a couple years, they had been, but Ike went the other direction, he nurtured his intellect while Kyley-B got into fights.  
Ike is far away at a college in Baltimore, studying and if his snapchat is true, fucking on the weekends. It was strange to think his baby brother was akin to Kenny McCormick but vastly intelligent.

Taking a deep breath, Kyley-B sent his bro a snap, "Dude you're so damn lucky."

A laughing picture of Ike greeted him seconds later, "I'm not the one that fucked up bro, get good you dick!"

Kyley-B rolled his eyes, "Fuck you, you shit." "Ugh"

A serious picture followed, "Sup dude?"

Kyle took a picture of the ceiling, "I think I made progress in counseling finally"

"Fuck, you did? Hella! Do you want to elaborate?"

Kyley-B mulled it over, considering how much to tell him. "Getting away from mom is incredibly important."

"No shit."

"Fuck you."

"xD no thanks bro!"

"Ugh." "I could be getting my own place in a few months or sooner."

"Fuck really?"

"Yeah dude. Mackey is gonna help."

"Nice. Maybe I'll come visit ya."

That's part of why he liked talking to Ike, he didn't pry or push him to talk.

"No wild parties if you do."

"No promises ;]"

":P" "Is it weird I haven't tried to talk to anyone since I've been here?"

"No? They were your friends as a kid, hell not everyone stayed or came back."

"You think so?"

"Yeah dude. Why someone say something?"

"Nah... Thought I saw someone."

Ike looks thoughtful in his next snap, "Who do you think it was?"

"Honestly, it looked like one of the """goth kids""", except you know, older. I would have thought they all grew out of that."

"I know you didn't really """have time""" for them when we were kids, but I was kinda friends with Firckle, remember? He was in my class." "From what little the dude spoke, they seemed to have some deep beliefs and stuff."

Kyley-B sends a skeptical look to his brother, awaiting the response.

Ike looks exasperated, "Dude, I know. but for all they spoke about pain and shit, they're not, y'know wrong. The world is pretty terrible, especially in south park."

"Even if that is true..., you think they would have stuck around here?"

Ike wrote a shrugging emoji and Kyley-B asked something else, "You think any of them go to Mackey?"

His brother had another thoughtful expression, "Maybe? I mean, anything's possible really. He's probably one of the only counselors in the area." "But I don't know, and I do know that even if they are, Mackey can't tell you."

"Well no shit."

":P"

"Ugh"

"Why do you care so much?"

And there it was, why did he care? He couldn't give himself or Ike an answer. Was it because he was getting lonely? Being by himself, at work, or at his mother's all the time. He didn't have friends, not in Jersey, and hadn't bothered to inquire about anyone here. Ugh, was he that desperate for friends he was considering the Goths?  
He made a face and put his phone on the drawers beside his bed. He stretched out on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Suddenly, he could feel it, his anger and rage boiling up beneath his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what Mackey said to do in these times. It felt like grasping at straws or air though, nothing was coming to him except the red-hot anger and desire for destruction.  
He bit down onto his bottom lip, his hands gripping the sheets with white knuckles, as he fought to maintain his calm. His heart rate increased, his breathing was quicker and more shallow, he was perspiring just a little bit.

Forcibly, he released the sheets, though his arms were extremely tense before him. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then he exhaled through his mouth in a large burst of air, which he was supposed to do slowly, but he still felt marginally better so it was working. He was still tense as fuck, so he inhaled slowly, counting the seconds, before then slowly exhaling, feeling the tension drain from his limbs and leaving him exhausted, as though he had just worked out or something.

He felt empty, small relief sense because he wasn't angry and that the coping skills had worked, but also..., glaringly empty. He didn't feel anything, he just blankly stared at the ceiling.


	5. Raven - Housewarming

It was 3 AM now. Raven put his phone back down, his room dimly lit by the tv, playing some cartoon to faintly for him to hear. It had been two weeks since he had seen any of his friends aside from Pete, who he only saw because they lived together. He had given the feeble excuse that he wasn't feeling very social, and Pete had left for the meeting without him.

The next one would be in a couple of days. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go.  
He knew he should, but he also knew that "should" statements were useless and detrimental.  
Sighing, Raven rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Not that it helped anything, his head still pounded.

He wondered, vaguely, about how a knife cut was different from a stab. The stab probably hurt considerably more.  
As he laid there, he wondered about taking up self-harm again. Slicing his arms, not enough to scar, but enough to bleed. He would have to ensure he wouldn't scar, there had to be a way. Just in case, he changed his mind and wanted to live. He had plans of tattoos on his forearms, wouldn't do for them to be messy because of scars.

It wouldn't be long until it was long sleeve weather again.

He rolled back on to his back, staring up into the darkness of his room.  
He wonders absently about death.

It's been quite a while since he's felt like this. But that's what's so great about plans, they can be delayed, but they don't disappear because time passes. Restless, he gets up and goes to the bathroom. Upon returning to his room, he paces a little before taking a seat on the edge of the bed for a moment before getting back up and going down to the kitchen. He searches around for the bottle of headache relief pills, finding them eventually and getting two out. After replacing the bottle on the counter, he walks to the fridge and takes his water bottle out of it. He downs the medication before putting the water back in the fridge. He leans against the counter, staring at the ground, unsure of what to do now. Nothing is appealing in any form.

He sits on the cold tiled floor of the kitchen, thinking about Kyle, or Kyley-B, as Kenny informed him he's called now.

He finally got an answer from Kenny almost a week after sending the message. He remembers how when he went goth, he lost his super best friend. He wonders if that's still the case or if the new Kyley-B doesn't care about his being depressing. Kenny hadn't said much, just that he was living with his mom and dad in their old house. He wonders if they would welcome him into their home if he brought them a late house-warming gift. Or if they would turn him away. He used to be like a third son to them, before he and Kyley-B drifted apart and they moved away.

It would be weird. Times like this, he wishes he would have kept contact with more of his former friends, the goths were his best friends, but social nonsense wasn't really their forte. Except..., maybe Henrietta. She was studying sociology at the community college. She was going to become a social worker someday.

He checked his shorts pockets, but his phone wasn't in them, which meant it was in his room still. He got up and went back to his room, flopping on to his bed after grabbing his phone. He unlocked it and searched for Henrietta in his messages.  
"Hey I've got a social question for you"

"Sup?"

"If an old friend and their family moved back into their house, but that was a while ago, but you're also just now learning about it, would it be weird to show up and offer them a house-warming present?"

He waited long minutes for a response.

"It depends on the people and the relationship status."

"You haven't spoken in years but before that almost inseparable"

"It could be less weird with a plausible excuse as to why it hadn't been done sooner. However, they may still question the motives"

"Thanks"

"Was that hypothetical or is there someone you might go see?"

He ponders telling her, but wonders how much to divulge.  
"I was thinking about going to see my former super best friend."

"That red headed kid with the anger problem?"

"Yeah"

"I hope it goes well for you Raven."

"Thanks Henrietta."

He wonders what he can take with him to offer as a present.

An idea forms and he makes a note of his plans in his phone. Then he lays down and attempts to sleep again.  
Raven lays there for a while, eventually giving up and getting dressed before driving to the store. He's early, it doesn't open for another twenty minutes. So he opens his phone and fucks around on facebook until the store is finally open. He grabs what he needs and leaves, returning to his house to set out the chicken to thaw. He goes back to his room and tries to take a nap.

A few hours later, he wakes up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He glances at his phone and sees a text from Pete asking about the chicken. Raven replies it's for a special dish, but there's some still frozen if Pete wants some.

He wanders first to the bathroom and then downstairs. He checks the chicken to see how thawed it is before making himself a bowl of cereal for a late breakfast. After washing his dishes, he checks the cabinets for the items he'll need to cook before returning to his room to game for a little while.

Raven checks the time a few hours later, turning everything off and going downstairs to cook the housewarming gift meal. He first warms the skillet and gathers the vegetable oil and sliced jalapenos before carrying the chicken closer. He grabs a large container with a lid and then a fork and the shredded cheese from the fridge.

Once the pan is heated he first adds the oil then the chicken a piece at a time. Adding cheese and jalapenos next. Once it's all cooked, he puts it in the container and puts the lid on it. He puts the dirty dishes, aside from the pan in the sink before turning the stove off and going back to his room for his light hoody.  
Gingerly he places the dish in the passenger seat before starting the car.

He drives the familiar route to Kyley-B's house and stops on the side of the road. He turns off the car and takes a deep breath. He takes a few more before taking the container out of the car with him and walking up to the door. He raises his hand to knock quickly before returning his hands to the container. Anxiously waiting for someone to answer the door, unsure of who will and how they will react to his presence.


End file.
